#stolen darkness

[bexatthedesk]

"Mage Derp"

Bex, Moki, Shade, and Koiushi--four best friend from my novel. Sometimes they get into some silly situations. Shade is forgetting how to dog as they explore a cavern.

[captain-price-unofficially]

[frownyalfred]

Lucius Fox STAYS ready for secret identity defense

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 333

I once more believe Battinson Batman needs to be given a child. Or multiple. Multiple children. I am also once more rotating Ghosts Have Wings Au. 

So Batman, still early in his whole vigilante career ends up busting a shipment, nothing too surprising there. Pretty usual honestly. Except for what was in one of the crates already open. Because it looks like some sort of gemstones but… perfectly spherical. Strange. Suspicious. 

But it’s also late, er, early in the morning, and the GCPD is notoriously corrupt, so like, he’s not going to just leave the weird gemstones, each about the size of a plum or so. (Dear Gotham he’s apparently hungry, and might inwardly vow to never let anyone realize what his tired mind decided to use as measurement) 

So he, unknowingly spurred on by more than just a slight bit of ecto contamination, takes the strange spheres back home. Just puts them in his pockets and heads back to the manor that they moved back into after the whole Riddler mess. (He even found a cool cave! With a bunch of terrifying bats, but they made a glass separator! For safety!) 

But in Bruce’s defense of forgetting about them, he’s more than a little tired and hungry and just wants to sleep for a bit, y’know? So maybe he forgets about the gems as he falls asleep in the chair in the cave (Alfred was not pleased!) until he starts digging around for them. Erm. Did they fall out somewhere?? There’s no holes in his belt pockets… 

And maybe these sort of things shouldn’t slip his mind, the spheres had felt Weird with a capital W, but he gets forced to a circus and there’s an… accident. So maybe he pushed it away as not important because there’s now an angry grieving eight-year old living with him and he’s panickedly reading any and all sort of parenting books he can get a hold of because he has no clue what he’s doing. 

Yeah, maybe his back is itching like crazy no matter what he tries, and maybe he threw up the other day, but it’s fine. This is fine. 

….

Oh dear Gotham those are feathers, this is not fine- ALFREEED!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Stolen Goods 4

Warnings: noncon and other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

Ft. Lloyd Hansen, petite!pregnant reader

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

Lloyd drags you up the stairs. You can do nothing but pad after him, too confused and terrified to resist this madman. If he’s the type to go shopping and come home with a whole person, you’re not sure you want to find out what else he’s capable off. That holster on his belt keeps your thoughts from straying too. 

His hold on your wrist makes you itch, a heat creeping up from his touch, encasing you in the rising panic that comes with the drop in adrenaline. This is really real. This is horrifying! It’s deranged. This strange man took you and now you’re in this strange place. You’re pregnant and scared and dizzy. 

“Oof,” you stumble forward and nearly hit the wall before Lloyd diverts you and pulls you against him.  

As you collide, he brings his hand to the small of your back and urges you close, “where are you off to, sugar mama?” 

“No... no... where,” you flutter your lashes at him, “I’m...” you gulp and your stomach lets out a loud growl. You look down and back up at him, embarrassed. “I’m dizzy.” 

He considers you, his stache slanting with his lips as he sucks his teeth, “mm, yes, I remember. You’re supposed to feed your pets.” He chuckles as he drags his hand up your side and over your arm. He boops your nose and turns back to his course, “don’t worry, sunshine, I’ma get you all snug as a bug and you can eat cake off my abs.” 

“Huh?” You babble as you wobble after him mindlessly. 

“Kidding, unless you wanna...” he looks over his shoulder and winks. 

“N-nooo,” you stammer. 

He laughs again. You don’t see how he can be so unbothered by all of this. It’s like Jake when he zones out halfway through a conversation about something important. The thought of fiance sets a grimmer cast over the whole twisted situation. 

“You can’t... you can’t do this,” you wisp, “how can you... I’m a person. I... I’m pregnant.” 

“Oh yes, you are,” he purrs as he stops at a door, pushing down the handle and swinging it open, “nice and luscious.” 

“Ew.” 

“Ripe,” he remarks. 

Another swell of disgust rises and you frown. He moves you ahead of him and lets you go as he nudges you into the room. It smells like the cologne roiling off of him. You look around at the large bed draped in silk and tiger print, a theme consistent across the decor and furniture that fills the space. 

“No,” you turn and he catches you around the hips. 

“No? Honey cakes, you’re in it now. The only words I wanna hear are yes, more, or harder.” 

“Stop,” you slap his torso, just below his chest as he pens you in, “stop! You can’t--” you whine desperately. 

“I’m doing it. Look, do you know how many people have told me I can’t? And you know what happened? I did. And most of those fuckers had guns so...” 

“Guns?” You blanch and shake your head, “I don’t...” your eyes fall to his belt and he puts his hand on the pistol and tuts.  

“Don’t even try it,” he warns, “don’t you wanna be a good mama? That means you need to protect your baby,” he trails his hand over to your stomach and spreads his fingers wide, “so behave, sweetheart, or my tone’s gonna change real fast.” 

You shudder and look up at him with round eyes, a gleam of tears along the brim. You bring your hand over his instinctively and wince. You sniffle and try to shove his touch away. 

“Please, my baby--” you begin. 

“Don’t, with the eyes, and the lip,” he huffs. 

“I’m... I’m not doing anything.” 

“Stop,” he brings his hand up to tap your lower lip, “it’s just making me harder.” 

“Why are you doing this?” You beg as you back away from him. 

“I don’t know, I’m bored,” he shrugs, “I like the way your belly felt when I was up on you. Like to get a handful once I got you bent over--” 

“Ugh, why are you so gross?” 

He flinches and arches a brow, “gross? Excuse me?” 

“Yes, why are you being so nasty. I’m pregnant. Don’t you have any respect?” 

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, “we both know how you got that way so don’t be such a fucking prude.” He steps closer, bearing down on you as you back up, “you’re only salty ‘cause his dick was too short, huh?” 

“You don’t know him. Or me.” 

“I know those tits are driving me crazy and that you didn’t make a peep in that fucking store. You just stood there and let me slide right in, didn’t you? Maybe you wanna act all prim and proper, sweet pea, but we were both there. We both know you wanted it,” he snorts, “otherwise you would’ve... done absolutely anything. You didn’t. You just stood there.” 

You take another step back and put your hands over your chest. His eyes follows the movement and he licks his lips. 

“Hey, let’s be honest with each other. We gonna have to get to know each other, right, so I’m going to be straight with you,” he shows his palms and grins, “I fucking loved it too. I’m sure you could feel it like a lightning rod just zimmmmm, struck by the moment.” 

“Oh god,” you hiss. 

“Sex god, sure, but that’s just a little sample of the kielbasa--” 

You cover your face and tune him out as your embarrassment turns white hot above the flame of your guilt. He’s right. You didn’t stop him and you felt that tingle. You didn’t hate it. Scared, yes, but you were wet. Ugh, what’s wrong with you? Can you really blame the hormones? 

“Sweetie, where--” 

You walk to the bed and turn, plopping down on your bum, and cradle your head. The tears spill out and you sob. He’s quiet as you devolve into your emotions. 

“Hey, woah, woah, woah, don’t cry,” he steps forward with a tenuous lean, “hey, baby, tell me what you want and I’ll make it better? Want me to lick it?” 

“No!” You sneer between your fingers, “I want to go home.” 

“We just talked about this. Anything else?” 

Your lashes are webbed with tears and your eyes raw. You wiggle your nose and wipe it as you uncover your face. Your stomach gurgles painfully. 

“Cheesecake,” you murmur, “triple fudge with an oreo crust--” 

“Triple-- oreo--” he chokes out and taps his toe, hands framing his hips, “right. That actually sounds delicious. Good idea, tootsie roll.” 

[mournfulroses]

Kim Addonizio, from a poem titled "Stolen Moments," published in September 1999

[natdafat]

[jofish42]

[oneluckydragon]

Pmd2 remake devs, if you really do exist like the legends say, pls hire me I have so many funny ideas.

[sheisntyouspam]

i’m gonna read a bunch of sad stand-alones cause why not

please reblog with or comment recs xx

tagging mutuals (from both accounts x):

@aaronskenjii @catapparently @secretlysolitaire @swiftreader1989 @emreads294

@thebombofficial @tornqdowarnings @seeitallinmymind @ily-beyond-measure-carstairs @apollosmusee

@two-braincells-in-total @nonerrata-myarchives @slarxsa @joja-galaxy @his-littlefox

@cherie-luvv @seewead-brian @kit4strophe @shattermelyhfmlblog @theprincessofhearts

@ch4rliespringg @no1bookgirl @bookish-phile @eugenia-lightwood @balladofareader

@mariarosemary2003 @av-a-fletcruel @xyzmeh @g-in-love @lil-luvxo

@blackdaleblr-sp @whatsamongus

+ anyone with recs

[captain-price-unofficially]

Love the lore connections between Fromsoft titles.

[rabid-reads]

My August Reads Ranked

1. One Dark Window by Rachel Gillig: This was by far my favorite read this month. I love this book. I love it more than I love The Folk of the Air. More than the Dark Rise series. More than Captive Prince. Because it has EVERYTHING. The plot, the magic system, the characters, the writing, all of it is as equally good as the rest. Even though at the ending there’s a twist that’s sad, I was still EXCITED to see what happens next (more hype than sad). I root for the Nightmare too. “Long live the King.” The writing is show don’t tell and I fucking LOVE IT. I FUCKING LOVE IT. I am so tired of seeing a lot of telling in story books, and all my favs serve show.

2. Bunny by Mona Awad: This wasn’t as dark as I thought it was going to be, but it won me over with the writing. It’s clever, dark and hilarious. Samantha’s dilemma with the bunnies was relatable for me, especially the first smut salon she attends. It was a fun ride, and I enjoyed this book for reasons I wasn’t expecting to. The way Awad describes feelings is spectacular.

3. The Prisoner’s Throne by Holly Black: It was good to be back in Elfhame. I liked Prisoner’s Throne more than Stolen Heir because, of course, Jude and Cardan. I thought Wren and Oak’s story was cute and I had a fun time reading it, but I’m not over Jude and Cardan yet and that’s all I want.

4. The Stolen Heir by Holly Black: At first, I was a bit put off by how Jude-like Wren was, and how Cardan-like Oak was, but I had a good time. If Black wants to go back and write scenes showcasing Jude and Cardan falling in love, I’m all for that. Would love to see the two of them snuggling by a fire.

5. On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft by Stephen King: I knew I’d like this because every time I watch King speak, he’s fun. He’s fun to listen to, he’s fun to read. He’s at his best when he’s shooting the shit. This was a good time.

6. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde: I love the dialogue in this, it can be interpreted in different ways and it’s exciting to think about. I’ve never read anything as quotable as this book. I lived for every time Dorian threw himself on a couch in a fit of angst.

7. The Corsair’s Captive by Ruby Dixon: Dixon never lets me down. It’s another cozy, fun sci-fi romance with the big blue dudes. I have to read her shifter smut; it’s going to be everything.  

8. The Science of Storytelling by Will Storr: I appreciated how blunt this book was, and the information provided was interesting. If you’re looking for a book about why humans tell stories as well as scientific reasons why you should have an existential crisis. This is the one.

9. Victor by Brianna West: The most egregious offense to me was the smut. Because. How are you screwing an Angel, and it’s vanilla? No mention of where his wings are? Nothing special about his equipment? Only fucks in missionary? They could fuck in the air, but we’re going to sidestep that? Other than that the world-building wasn’t there for me, and the writing was a whole lot of telling. The adverb intense descriptions didn’t land for me, and I didn’t care about any of the characters. The fmc was annoying.

10. Haunting Adeline by H.D. Carlton: Zade is so Neil Breen coded. Like, if I found out Breen wrote this character for Carlton, it would make a lot of sense. I hate this book. I don’t know why I do this to myself.  

The books I'm most stoked to read in September are: Monstrilio by Gerardo Samano Cordova, Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries by Heather Fawcett and Two Twisted Crowns by Rachel Gillig.

[dailyloopdeloop]

DAY 29: [Look, stardust! I'm in Pokémon Art Academy for the Nintendo 3DS!]

[im-in-the-house]

Stolen memes from facebook. Part 3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Stolen Goods 1

Warnings: noncon and other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

Ft. Lloyd Hansen, petite!pregnant reader

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

You always felt small. Shelves, table, counters, even chairs made your shortcoming, pun intended, more obvious. Even at the one time in your life when you should feel big, you feel even tinier. 

The rounder your stomach becomes, the smaller the rest of your seems. It really doesn't feel like a part of you. That life inside you that has your shirts tighter by the say and the elastic stretching further and further.  

Swollen feet, hands, and chest, and yet you're still just a speck of dust in the wind. The grocery store so often adds to that sensation of insignificance. The cart rattles over the tile as you weave between other shoppers, veering out of the way as others turn corners without looking. Your progress down the list of needs is slower than usual but you're persistent. 

You stop in the bread section and peruse the assortment of rye and sourdough. You've been craving pumpernickel forever. You pick out a loaf and check your list. Bread crumbs... 

You spot your quarry and reach for the highest shelf. Of course it has to be all the way up there. You grunt and teeter on your toes, your goal made hard as your stomach keeps you from getting very close. 

“Allow me, sweetness,” a man says as he comes up behind you. 

You squeak in surprise as he crowds you and reaches up to grab the canister of crumbs. As he does, he presses himself to you, a none-too-subtle grind of his pelvis against your ass. You gasp and elbow him. 

“Ew, get off,” you squeal. 

“Now, now, honey buns, I got it,” he offers the canister, his arm hooking around to show the crumbs, “you just gotta say please.” 

“What the heck? Can you back up--” 

“Now, that’s not very polite, baby girl,” he shakes the crumbs and moves them away from your grasp as you try to snatch them. 

“I said back--” 

Your voice evaporates in shock and horror as he slaps your ass. You clutch the shelf and brace yourself as the force nearly has you crashing into the metal. You set your feet, regretting your choice of squishy and treadless slides, and he snakes his hand under your dress, trailing along the scalloped edge of your panties. 

“Stop,” you wisp, terrified at this man’s brazenness. Why is he doing this? How is no one else seeing this? 

His hand curls around and he stops as he touches your lower stomach. He hesitates and stretches his fingers over your bump. You’re only four-months but far enough that it’s obvious. 

“Shit,” he chortles and pushes his hand down, pressing against the front of your cotton panties, “someone beat me to it, huh?” 

He pokes the fabric between your folds with two fingers, wiggling them around. You shudder and squeeze the edge of the shelves. He creases the cotton between his fingers and pulls it aside. He pinches your thigh and you whimper as he kicks a foot between yours. 

“What--” you gasp and push back against him, trying to escape. “Please--” 

Your voice cracks and something inside you breaks. You can’t move or make a sound. He touches the tuft of hair along your pelvis and delves nakedly between your folds. You hold your breath as he toys with you, rubbing your clit dryly as he pushes his crotch against your back. 

What’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you doing anything? Why can’t you? 

He just carries on, rolling your bud under his fingers until you feel yourself react. It’s the hormones, not you. You’re scared, not weak. That’s what’s going on. What is going on? 

All at once, he retracts his hand. He leaves you quivering and wet and to your shame, wanting. He snickers again and tosses the canister so it lands in your cart. You cling to the shelves, legs shaking, and stare at the wrapped loaves in stunned silence. You hear him suck loudly on his fingers and hum. 

“Naughty mommy,” he tisks and struts away.  

You can’t move. You’re paralyzed in disbelief. That didn’t just happen. A stranger just touched you. Like that. And you’re wet. You look down as your knees buckle. 

You manage to move away from the shelves and look around. You can’t pick the man out from the scatter of shoppers puttering around like drones. His sleeve was black but half the men their have black jackets. Your lip trembles as your eyes brim with tears. You don’t know what to do. 

You turn to your cart and grab the handle, rolling it forward. Your eyes fall to the white and yellow canister that rolls across the bottom. You stop and skirt around to reach into the basket, looking around before you bend to fish out the bread crumbs. You place them on the table of croissants nearby and push the cart onward. 

You’ll do grilled instead of fried. You never want to think of what happened again. You hope you never see that man again. Would you even know him at a glance? 

[dulafer]

IMPOSTER PRESIDENT

My latest, typically long, detailed takeover tale. Struggling mechanic discovers his successful twin brother, the President of Hyatt Hotel Corporation.

Feedback (errors, corrections, suggestions) really appreciated - dclouser@mac.com